


Shower for Two

by impalaster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dom!Sam, F/M, Masturbation, Rough Sex, Shower Sex, Smut, Voyeurism, giggly sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-11 21:42:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4453439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalaster/pseuds/impalaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on an imagine from dirtysupernaturalimagines.tumblr.com<br/>Imagine after hunts, you and Sam always shower together ( platonically) because both of you want the first shower. But it moves into more than friends territory one night.<br/>(y/n) = your name<br/>Sequel in the works</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shower for Two

**Author's Note:**

> I also have this story posted on the above-mentioned blog under my blog name barrel-x-rider.tumblr.com. So there's no plagiarism happening here, I promise.

It all started with a gallon of vampire blood and an impulsive decision.

You, Sam, and Dean had just finished ganking an entire nest of vampires that were making waves in “Small Town”, Montana. After the countless beheadings, all three of you were soaked in blood-sucker blood. You fantasized in the back seat of the Impala the entire drive about the hot shower you were going to take when you got back to the motel. You were so caught up in your visions of massaging neutral-scented complimentary shampoo into your hair and the water soothing your sore muscles (if you were lucky enough to get a room with a shower that had a water pressure slightly above “being peed on” this time) that you neglected to call dibs.

You plopped your bag of clothes onto the floor as soon as you walked in the door of the motel room you were sharing with the brothers. “I’m gonna grab first shower,” you said, peeling your blood-soaked coat off and draping it over a desk chair.

“Too late,” Dean said, already sprawled out on one of the beds in his undershirt and boxer-briefs, in complete comfort. They were the only articles of clothing not covered in blood, but you still made a face at his instant ability to get comfortable, even with vamp blood coating his short hair.

“Please keep your filthy head off the clean pillows, Pigsty. I plan on bunking with you tonight,” you commented before his words registered. “What do you mean too late?” You realized Sam wasn’t anywhere to be seen in the room, and you now heard the shower water running behind the closed bathroom door. “Dammit!”

You had built up the thought of this shower so much in your head that you were completely put out at this turn of events. Most of the hot water will be gone, you thought in disappointment. You would have to get a lukewarm parody of a shower at best. You refused to accept this, even though you were used to those types of showers by now.

You strode determinedly to the door of the bathroom and distantly heard Dean say, “What the hell?” before turning the knob and walking in. You closed the door lightly behind you and discarded the rest of your clothing as quickly and quietly as possible so that Sam wouldn't hear you over the running water. The bathroom was already hazy with steam. That assbutt definitely plans on using all the hot water, you thought.

After disrobing, you made your way to the end of the shower opposite the showerhead and faucets and pulled the curtain aside to step in. Sam was under the water with his eyes closed; his hair touched his shoulders when it was wet and it was the color of dark chocolate. He was oblivious to your presence, and you crossed your arms over your chest and waited.

His reaction was as you expected; no welcoming offer of the shampoo or anything. Upon opening his eyes, the giant of a man let out a startled yell and fell back against the shower wall, simultaneously fumbling to keep his balance and cover himself. What immaculate hunter reflexes, your inner monologue noted. In his defense, though, he probably would have shot you if he had a gun and wasn’t stark naked.

“(y/n)!” he sputtered, “What are you doing?”

“I had myself all hyped up for this shower on the ride back, and I’m not going to let you have all the hot water,” you explained matter-of-factly, covering up the fact that your snap decision had put you in this totally uncomfortable situation.

“Okay, I’ll get out, and you can have the shower,” Sam offered, his face still a mask of confusion.

Now you just felt like a bitch. The hunting life wasn’t an easy one, and any little indulgence like a hot shower or a comfortable bed helped.

“No,” you sighed, defeated, “Just share.” You reached for the bottle of motel shampoo and squirted some into your hand and started scrubbing it into your hair. You peaked an eye open amidst the suds framing your face to see Sam still staring at you dumbfounded. You gave him a smile and made a hand gesture to indicate he should continue. You went back to washing your hair only after you saw him hesitantly take the bar of soap and start lathering his upper body.

And that’s how it happened. No funny business ensued; you both washed then departed the bathroom. It somehow became a habit; after every hunt you entered the bathroom together to get your shared shower.

Dean was beyond confused. “So you don’t do anything in there besides shower?” he would ask.

“No Dean.”

“And you’re naked in there?”

“Yes Dean.”

“But you don’t have sex?”

“No Dean.”

“Not even a little bit?”

You weren’t even going to ask how you can have sex a little bit.

You and Sam didn’t exactly follow locker room etiquette either. Sam had a body sculpted by the gods (and by working out every morning while you and Dean slept in), and you couldn’t help but admire it when his eyes were closed under the spray of the water. He sometimes had to duck to fit under the showerhead, which did look comical, and you both would laugh in those cases. But even then, you weren’t put off as the rivulets of water ran down his tan, muscled chest, pooling in the dip of his collar bone and washing over his anti-possession tattoo. You’d watch the water make its way downward, over his abs, the beautiful V of his hips… He was a giant of a man, and you smirked, looking down and noting there were no exceptions.

“My eyes are up here,” Sam’s deep voice would sometimes interrupt your ogling. When you’d look up, you’d see him smirking. The first time this happened was embarrassing, mortifying, you almost jumped out of the shower, but by now you were unabashed.

“Yes they are,” you’d respond, flicking him lightly between the eyes and grabbing the soap.

Sam wasn’t a gentleman either, though. You could feel his eyes on you when you tipped your head back to rinse your hair, your mouth opened in an O to breathe as the warm water cascaded over your face, your chest pushed forward purposefully when you could tell his movements had stopped. He certainly wasn’t subtle when you bent over to shave your legs either. You guys had an understanding. You all knew it was a not-so-normal situation, but you were hunters and weird was your forte.

It went on like this for a while. Past the point where Dean finally stopped yelling through the door things like “Don’t get anybody pregnant!” and “At least three feet on the ground, I’m not driving anyone to the hospital because you got too kinky in the shower!”

After a simple salt and burn one evening where nobody was covered in more than sweat and a dusting of grave dirt, you asked Sam, “Can I wash your hair?”

“What, why?” he sputtered, blinking the water out of his eyes to look at you.

“So then you’re obligated to wash mine in return,” you smiled sweetly. “It feels nice, like when they wash your hair before a haircut.” You paused then, tugging on a lock of Sam’s long wet hair. “Although, I guess you wouldn’t be too familiar with the whole hair cutting process,” you joked.

He lightly swatted your hand away and chuckled. “Alright,” he agreed, hesitantly handing you the shampoo bottle. You took it and looked up at him just standing in front of you. You stretched your arms out to their full extent to demonstrate that there was no way you’d be able to reach his head while he was standing up. He laughed again and knelt down in the tub facing you. He might have appeared unfazed by this position, but you took an involuntary breath at this beautiful naked man kneeling in front of you.

You shook away any thoughts about what he could possibly do with his mouth down there and squirted a generous amount of shampoo into your hand to wash Sam’s long, thick… hair! To wash his hair. You nervously cleared your throat and ran your hands through his hair, scrubbing the shampoo deep down to his scalp, scratching lightly and massaging it in.

Sam sighed, and the hot breath so close to your wet skin made you jump. You hoped he hadn’t noticed and said, “See? Told you.”

After you made sure to thoroughly clean the hunter’s gorgeous hair, you pulled the detachable shower head from the wall to rinse it. Once you made sure all the soap was out of Sam’s hair, you replaced the shower head and ran your hands over his dripping hair to push it back from his face. He opened his eyes and looked up at your through his lashes, which were dewed with tiny droplets of water. “That was nice,” he said.

“Yeah,” you breathed in agreement, staring into his hazel eyes that could never make up their mind on what color they should be. You blinked and realized how stupid your response sounded, clearing your throat before trying again, “Yeah? I know right?”

Sam smiled up at you, nothing soft about the curve of his lips, “My turn to do you?”

You nodded silently, expecting him to stand up so he could reach your head. You let out a startled yelp when, instead, he grabbed you by the back of your thighs and yanked you forward. Before you could ask him what he was doing, his lips were on your skin, hotter even than the shower water, and you suddenly didn’t care anymore. His lips were level with your abdomen, just above your navel. He placed open-mouthed kisses all over your wet skin, making you gasp in more air at every contact. He dipped his tongue into your navel, making you squeal. He tightened his hold just under your ass cheeks and grinned a wicked grin up at you.

He moved his mouth down lower, making you squirm in anticipation. You felt a pinch on your backside and jumped in surprise. “Hold still,” Sam growled.

He pulled you forward suddenly, angling your hips upward, bringing his head down, and closing the distance between his mouth and the place between your legs that was throbbing in need to be touched.

His lips closed around your swollen clit and you let out a quiet scream before you could stop yourself. Sam’s arm shot up and he covered your mouth with his hand. “You don’t want Dean to hear, do you?” His mouth was stern, but you could see his smirk in his eyes. You stared back at him wide-eyed and shook your head. “Then be quiet,” he commanded. You nodded and he slowly removed his hand from your mouth, eyes never wavering from yours.

Sam’s tongue swiped over your folds, and your eyes shot closed, your head flew back, and you tried your damndest to be quiet. Still, a whimper escaped your throat.

“I couldn’t tell before, but now I know just how wet you are for me.” Sam grinned up at you once again and you bit your lip. “How long have you been wet for me? Are you like this every time we shower together, you naughty girl? Or is this the first time, having me kneel in front of you like I’m your sex slave? Do you like this then… mistress?” You whined in the back of your throat and bucked your hips involuntarily.

Sam laughed darkly – you never would have guessed at this side of the slightly awkward younger Winchester. “Ohh, you like that? You want me to worship you mistress? Tell you how beautiful and fucking sexy you are,” he ran his hands up your sides, gliding easily over your wet skin. They were rough and calloused against your soft skin. “Because you are. I can barely control myself during these showers of ours. And you always tease me too, you dirty little girl.” His hands reached up and caressed your breasts, tweaking your nipples until they stood erect and making you gasp. He ran one hand back down your body, while his other continued to fondle your breasts. He lightly ran a single finger over your dripping folds, and you whimpered and bucked into his touch, but he drew his hand back until you held still again.

“I’m not going to worship you though,” he purred, “because you are a bad girl who deserves to be punished.” At that, he plunged two fingers into your throbbing pussy and squeezing your breast hard enough to bruise.

You cried out, and his fingers were gone. Before you could apologize or even make a noise of disappointment, Sam was standing up. He spun you around so that your shoulders pressed into his chest, and you could feel his massive dick rubbing stiffly against your lower back. “I told you to be quiet,” he whispered in your ear, his hand on your throat, light enough so you could still breathe, but with enough pressure to make his point. “I know what’ll make you be quiet.” He turned so that you were facing him, and pushed you down onto your knees in front of him. “How long have you been wanting my cock? Huh?” You just moaned in response, biting your lip to stifle any louder noises. You looked up into his eyes, seeing his pupils blown with lust, but your eyes wandered back down to the huge, throbbing member at eye level. Your response wasn’t good enough, though, for Sam continued, taking a handful of your wet hair and fisting it between his fingers, “How long?”

You gasped. “Since I first saw it,” the answer tumbled out of your open mouth in a breath, and you weren’t lying.

“Then take it,” Sam growled, pulling you forward by your hair.

You obliged without hesitation, wrapping your lips around Sam’s throbbing dick, and with that, you were in some semblance of control now. Sam let out a strangled groan, and you smirked around him. Who needs to be quiet now? Taking him as far as you could in your mouth, you wrapped your hand around the base and started bobbing your head and your hand in sync. “Oh god, (y/n),” Sam moaned your name. You just hummed around his cock and gave him a sweet look. He only got a glimpse of it though, for you had pulled off to flick your tongue against his head and run it down the length of him, and he squeezed his eyes closed, a low groan rumbling in his chest. You giggled and took him in your mouth again, never halting the pumping and twisting of your hand.

Sam’s hand was still tangled in your hair, his fingers loosened in the bliss your mouth was creating. You pushed yourself to take his full length, relaxing your throat but still gagging a little when the head of his cock reached the back. You snaked your tongue out to lick his base while he was sheathed in your mouth, bringing your hand up to cup his balls. You gagged again, your throat constricting around Sam’s dick, and he suddenly pulled you off of him by your hair. You were breathing hard; a string of saliva bridging his cock and your mouth. Looking up at him, you smiled and wiped your mouth, noticing with satisfaction that Sam’s breathing matched yours.

“You were right,” you said.

“What?” Sam panted, pulled momentarily from his dominant role. “I have been thinking about that for a while.” You smirked. “Especially those nights where we’d shower together and then sleep in the same motel bed. I’d lay awake some nights while you were sleeping so peacefully next to me and just think about waking you up with your cock in my mouth. And sometimes my hand would drift down,” you demonstrated, snaking your hands down your glistening, wet body, one hand stopping to play with your breasts and tweak your nipple, your other hand continued to travel down your abdomen to the destination between your legs. “I’d peak over to check that you were still sleeping. And then I’d slip just one finger in between my folds, getting it slick with my juices, cause by that time I’d already be wet from just thinking about your throbbing dick inside of me. I’d use my wetness to lubricate my clit a little so that I could rub myself off while finger fucking my pussy right next to you, fantasizing about you waking up and catching me, replacing my fingers with the massive member I could see straining against your boxers.” Throughout your monologue, you gave Sam a visual demonstration; you had two fingers inside of yourself, slowly pumping in and out, and your thumb rubbed against your clit. Your own actions pulled a ragged breath from your lungs, followed by a slight moan.

You stole a look at Sam, confirming what you already assumed: you were playing with fire with this little act of yours. Sam’s pupils were blown and you had no trouble guessing what color his eyes were anymore, because the small rings of his irises that you could see were now dark and nearly black in their intensity. His jaw was clenched in barely restrained control and his brows were furrowed in a dangerous look of longing that went straight to your core. A shudder racked through your body, and you plunged your fingers deeper, grazing against your g-spot, your knees giving a little at the contact. Sam watching you turned you on more, but in a sense you were in your own little world. That is, until Sam slammed you up against the slick shower wall.

“Something I mastered when I was younger on the road with Dean and Dad;” he whispered low in your ear, “Pretending to be asleep.” At that, he rammed inside of you, and you cried out, the only thing keeping you from buckling to the shower floor was Sam’s hard, muscular frame pinning you to the tile wall. He moved his hands to your hips, gripping them in a bruising hold as he mercilessly pounded into you.

In the back of your mind, the part that wasn’t concerned with the feeling of Sam’s cock hitting your g-spot with every thrust and his pelvis rubbing deliciously against your clit, you were glad he wasn’t enforcing your silence anymore, because you were basically screaming.

“Is this how you imagined it?” Sam whispered like sandpaper next to your ear. You moaned loudly in response, beyond words, but Sam wasn’t having it. He let go of one of your hips to fist his hand in your hair and pull your head to the side. “Is it?” He growled.

You cried out, “Yes!” when he bit down on the sensitive skin of your neck just below your ear.

“Yes?” Sam purred, seemingly pleased with your answer. He slowed down his ministrations, pulling out of you at a snail’s pace until just his tip rested between your folds before ramming back into you, repeating this and listening to you cry out every time he reconnected.

And even though you were beginning to wonder how much more of Sam’s torment you could take – you could feel the muscles in your legs quake every time Sam slid out of you – you whimpered, “Better,” as Sam pulled out once again.

You heard him groan low in his throat before slamming into you once more and starting up a brutal pace again that had you on the edge immediately. “Please Sammy,” you gasped out.

“Please what (y/n)?” Sam grunted, obviously close himself.

“Please let me cum now,” you begged.

“Yes mistress.” He swept your legs up around his waist, his wet feet squeaking on the shower floor. He leaned your back against the wall and thrust up into you, reaching deeper than before as he bounced you on his dick. The water spraying from the shower head had turned icy, and the chill of it raining down on both your feverish forms intensified the feeling of Sam pumping and pulsing hotly inside of you. You shuddered and tensed, and there was no gradual climb to your orgasm, no smooth ride. It built up and was ripped out of you with a feral scream. Your legs tightened around Sam as you arched your back up into him, your shoulders and head sliding on the shower wall. Each wave of your powerful orgasm clenched around Sam, and he came too, bracing himself with his hand on the wall by your head, the muscles in his forearm taught. In the last dregs of your orgasm, you felt his hot load pumping inside of you, and you let out a spent moan, slumping in Sam’s grip.

Sam came down with you, but he probably shouldn’t have relaxed as you had. His feet slid backward, and you felt his penis slide out of you, the burning of your stretched walls quickly being taken over by the impact of your ass hitting the bottom of the shower. You heard a long rip and some jingling, followed by a thud and a pained grown. Sam had tried to cease his fall with the shower curtain, ripping it off the rings and landing on the tile floor. Cold water ricocheted off of the porcelain tub, spraying the small motel bathroom. You burst out in a fit of laughter despite the throbbing of your sore tailbone.

“You owe me 20 bucks, Sammy!” Dean yelled from the adjoining room.

Sam groaned again and sat up to look at you. A grin slowly stretched across his face when he saw that you were okay. You crawled over to turn the water off, shivering a little.

You looked at Sam and laughed again. “That was climactic.” Sam’s deep laugh joined yours as he picked himself up from the bathroom floor. “And it looks like I’m not washing my hair tonight.”

“Why not?” Sam asked with a cheeky smile, throwing the totaled shower curtain on top of you. You squealed and disentangled yourself from the material, which you were sure was covered in all kinds of motel disgustingness. You carefully stepped out of the tub, making sure not to slip on the wet bath tile. “You’re better off than Dean, though. He doesn’t get to shower at all tonight.”

“Poor Dean. Good thing I’m sleeping in your bed tonight.” You winked Sam and smiled when he wrapped a fluffy towel around you and kissed the top of your wet head.


	2. Shhh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader is feeling pretty pent up laying in bed next to Sam after a hunt and thinks she can get in a little solo action without being caught. She obviously doesn't know Sam too well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (y/n) = your name  
> This story is also posted on the blog dirtysupernaturalimagines.tumblr.com under the name barrel-x-rider. There is no plagiarism going on here at all, I promise.

Since your shower incident, you now slept with Sam every time the three of you went on a hunt, much to Dean’s chagrin. He always made a big deal, complaining that you always put your cold feet on him, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. Dean was a huge cuddle bug.  


You and Sam couldn’t really do anything together on hunts because Dean was right there in the same room, and you both saw what happens when you mess around in the shower. So hunts were still just as sexually frustrating as ever.  


That’s why, on this particular night, you found yourself lying wide awake next to Sam’s sleeping form on a surprisingly comfortable queen-sized mattress, shifting restlessly under the crisp, white sheets that gave the impression of cleanliness. Dean snored softly from the neighboring bed, frustrating you all the more that you were the only one awake. You should’ve been asleep, tuckered out from the day’s hunt, curled up in a soft bed, comforted by Sam’s warm presence next to you. But unfortunately, you were insatiably horny.  


You let out a soft groan of frustration and shifted your position again, settling on your back. You rubbed your thighs together to provide your heated core with some much-desired friction. You groaned again, a little louder, knowing that if your flopping around in the bed to get comfortable hadn’t woken Sam up, your small noise of frustration would have no effect.  


That thought spurred an idea, and you sat up to check out Sam’s sleeping form. His breathing appeared relatively even, and he was perfectly still. You leaned over so that your face was hovering just above his to check for any deviations in his sleeping features that would indicate he might be playing opossum. 

There was nary a muscle twitch nor the flutter of an eyelid. Sammy was very much asleep.  


You laid back down and smirked to yourself. You saw no harm in a little solo action since the drive to the bunker was likely to take all the next day. You wasted no time, slipping a hand under the waistband of your cotton shorts and lightly grazing a finger over your clit through your panties. The material added a delicious stimulation to your swollen bud, and you gasped, body jerking a little. You turned your head to look at Sam, paranoid that your sudden movement might have woken him. He showed no sign of disturbance, so you decided to carry on.  


You slowly grazed your fingertips over your sensitive folds, over and over through your lace boyshorts, relishing in the feeling as you started to heat up further down there. You slid your finger up and pressed on your clit, breath catching in your throat as you jolted minutely. You needed more. You shimmied your shorts down your thighs and kicked them out from under the covers, leaving you in Sam’s oversized t-shirt – it was purple with a dog on the front, and you had never seen him wear it- and your panties, which you slid partially down your thighs as well so you could have full access to your needy pussy.  


You ran a couple fingers through your slickened folds, bringing the juices up to lubricate your throbbing clit. “Mmm,” you let out a quiet moan as you began slowly circling your sensitive bud. The silence of the sleepy motel room was punctuated with a quiet gasp now and then as you worked yourself over. You were beyond caring as the uncomfortable heat that had pooled in your lower tummy for the duration of the hunt was finally being taken care of. You peaked over at Sam, sleeping peacefully, facing you on his side with his hand flattened against his cheek. He was shirtless, and his broad, tanned shoulder poked out from under the comforter, pulled up to rest just under his pecs. You groaned internally - maybe a little bit externally - at the unfairness of it being your fingers currently rubbing between your legs. Imagine all you might that they were his, it just wasn’t the same. And it certainly wasn’t the same as his long, thick cock pounding into you. You groaned louder at the thought and plunged two fingers into your soaked core.  


You panted, past the point of no return, knees propped up under the stifling blankets and spread wide, hips tilted upward, fingers pumping and curling. You were so close, so close-  


“Need some help?” a husky voice whispered near your ear.  


You gasped loudly, the sexy voice of your boyfriend startling you enough that you jumped. “Did I wake you up?” you squeaked, blushing in spite of yourself.  


Sam chuckled. “Awful hard to stay asleep with you squirming over there like that, your sexy little moans so close to my ear.”  


You blushed deeper, glad of the dark motel room shrouding your embarrassment at being caught so outright.  


“But to answer your question,” Sam continued in that sexy low voice, “No, you didn’t wake me. I was laying here feeling you shift around unable to sleep, about to pull you over to me and ask you what was wrong when I felt your breath fan over my face, and I knew you were checking to see if I was asleep. So I figured I’d stay quiet and see what played out.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. You remained unmoving, breathing hard, staring up at the popcorn ceiling lit faintly by the yellow-glow of the streetlights outside. Your hand was still nestled between your thighs, and Sam’s breath by your ear when he spoke was not uncomfortably heady. “You don’t know how hard it was to keep my eyes closed as I heard you slipping your hand into those little shorts of yours. And then I heard them hit the floor, and it took all my willpower to stay still, especially as my cock just got harder and harder with each sound you made. But then I heard you getting close, and there’s no way in Hell, Purgatory, or Heaven that I’m gonna let you cum while I’m laying right next to you pretending to be asleep. Not anymore.”  


Sam shifted suddenly, and he was hovering over top of you now. You looked up at him with wide eyes as he pulled your hand from between your legs and brought your two fingers to his mouth. He sucked on them, curling his tongue over and around them until they were completely clean of your juices.  


“Mmm, babygirl, you’re so wet, aren’t you? I’d give anything to taste you, over and over, lapping at your pussy and licking and sucking on your little clit while you’re screaming my name.” You whimpered and bucked your hips up under Sam, seeking friction since he removed your hand and was hovering his hips over the place you wanted to be touched the most. You groaned at the continued lack of friction and brought your hand back down to rub at your clit while Sam’s dirty mouth made everything that much more difficult. He removed your hand once more and pinned both of them on the pillows above your head, giving you a chastising look.  


“I can’t do that, though, because you need to be quiet since Dean’s right over there, and I know how loud you get with my head between your legs.” Sam whispered in your ear now, his muscular chest pressing to yours, and you arched up to press your breasts into him through the t-shirt you wore.  


He growled and let go of your pinned wrists long enough to rip the offending article of clothing over your head. He leant his head down to nip and nuzzle and suck at your newly exposed flesh between murmured words. “I’m going to fuck you, slow and deep, and you’re going to have to be quiet so we don’t wake Dean up, because you wouldn’t want that would you?” The idea of being caught by Dean late at night with Sam’s cock buried deep inside you sent a surprising wave of heat shooting through you, and a strangled moan escaped your lips. Sam chuckled darkly, “That thought excites you, doesn’t it naughty girl? I don’t want Dean seeing you like that, though. Only me. Only I get to see you so beautifully unraveled. So you better be quiet or I’ll stop before either of us gets to cum.”  


You nodded vigorously and raised your hips to ground against Sam’s boxer-clad erection. “I’ll be quiet. I promise,” you assured him breathlessly. “I just need you inside me. Please Sammy.” You gave him your best imitation of his puppy dog eyes.  


His teasingly sadistic attitude tonight – no doubt resulting from catching you getting off right next to him- must’ve made him immune to it for he just asked, “What’s got you so riled up anyway? Well, other than me stopping you right before you could cum.” You could see the flash of white teeth in the dark room as he grinned. He threw you a bone and ground his hips against your now dripping center.  


You bucked your hips off the bed, seeking more, but he withdrew. You groaned, “You baby. Always you.”  


Sam chuckled and took a moment to nuzzle your neck affectionately. “Undoubtedly,” he murmured against the thin skin above your rapidly beating pulse before placing a soft kiss there and sucking just enough to leave a mark and make you moan. He pulled back and planted another kiss on your parted lips. You felt him smile against you.  


“You sleep next to me every night, though, and I haven’t heard you getting off without me since before we destroyed that shower. And besides, we’re still all gross from the hunt since this shitty motel’s shower is broken, so how sexy can I be?”  


You made a little telling noise in the back of your throat that your law schooled boyfriend didn’t miss.  


“You’re all turned on from the hunt?” he whispered, laughter tingeing his voice.  


You groaned in embarrassment, regretting ever sliding your hand down your pants in the first place.  


“Do you enjoy our job that much?” Sam teased.  


“No!” you snapped, tired of his teasing and about ready to flip him over on his back using the paring skills you’ve honed over the years and just ride the fuck out of him. You were loath to admit what exactly it was that had you so horny. Taking control of the situation would solve all your problems. Sam really wouldn’t mind.  


But then you thought of Sam fucking you. Sam was carnal in bed. Sometimes, he would just let loose, completely let go and pound you into the mattress. Inhibitions gone, concerned with nothing but the primal need for pleasure, yours and his both. You loved it.  


Other times, Sam held back, wanting it to last longer, to be more intimate. But the beast never left him. You saw it in his eyes, in the clenched muscles of his jaw, in the bite marks on your shoulder, and the bruises blooming on your hips the next morning in the vague shape of Sam’s fingers. You loved that even more.  


You knew that the sleepy motel room and even sleepier Dean in the neighboring bed would require Sam to hold back and you yearned to see the caged tiger behind his eyes, the very same look he wore when he hunted.  


You squirmed beneath Sam, convinced there had to be a puddle forming between your legs by now. Sam continues to smirk at you, an eyebrow infuriatingly cocked in question. You sighed. “Have you ever seen yourself hunt?” You asked at last.  


Sam’s brows furrowed into a look of confusion – more adorable than anything – which gave you a chance to continue. “You have the same look in your eyes when we hunt as you do when we have sex. A look of concentration, passion, and restraint, like at any moment you could let loose and gank every demon in the room in one move… or push me against the wall and fuck me senseless.  


“And God, the way you move, like you’re in some choreographed hunter ballet. All hard, heavy muscle and those long limbs, one would expect you to be clunky and clumsy, but you have this feral grace like a wild dog.  


“All of you is just mesmerizing. Those long… skillful… fingers wrapped around the grip of your gun, the way your bicep flexes when you draw back a blade –“ You caught yourself babbling and trailed off, clearing your throat awkwardly. “Really, I think it’s just all those pheromones you’re releasing when you sweat,” you concluded matter-of-factly, like you hadn’t just gushed about how hot your boyfriend was to your boyfriend’s (you dared to meet his gaze) grinning face.  


His amusement was evident, but there was something else there, in the depth of his eyes and the quirk of his smile, that you weren’t expecting and couldn’t quite label. Affection? Lust?  


You wanted him to say something. To tease you. To ask how you’d managed to not get killed on a hunt this far since you obviously spend more time ogling him than actually doing your job. But he just continued to stare at you with that damn smile.  


Your mortification outweighed your horniness now, and you wanted to just roll out from under Sam, curl into a ball, go to sleep, and pretend like this never happened. But then Sam leaned down and kissed you deeply. He trailed sweet kisses up your jaw, rekindling the fire that started all this in the first place. You moaned softly as he kissed the sensitive spot behind your ear. You felt him chuckle before he whispered, “I love you (y/n).” The first time either of you had said it. You gasped. “And tomorrow, I’ll tell you all about how I almost died on that first hunt with you because I was too focused on how good your ass looked in those jeans. Or how you exorcising a demon is weirdly the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. But right now, I just need to be inside of you.” He punctuated his words by rutting his heavy erection against your bare thigh. You wondered briefly when he had discarded his underwear but decided it didn’t matter. A drop of sticky pre-cum deposited itself on your leg, and that combined with the harsh scrape of Sam’s stubble against your neck and the hot, shaky breath of barely there control that he let out was enough to bring you back to the point you were at when Sam interrupted you.  


“What are you waiting for, then?” You whispered sultrily.  


Sam turned his head to sloppily and desperately kiss his way to your lips as he lined himself up between your legs. He slid in easily with one smooth motion, and you wanted to cry out in sheer relief at finally having Sam inside you. But you couldn’t. The only sound that escaped your parted lips was a quiet, strangled moan. You tossed your head back onto the pillows and dug your nails into Sam’s shoulder blades. He groaned low in his throat, almost a growl, and began moving his hips into yours. You gasped, arching slightly, which only brought you and Sam closer together. You would never be used to how incredible Sam felt inside of you. His pace was slow and deep, his entire body was pressed to yours, keeping from crushing you with his elbows propped on either side of your head. He was emanating heat like a furnace, and your skin stuck together with mingled sweat. But all you could focus on was the feeling of Sam’s cock stretching and filling you, his head nudging your g-spot with the occasional electric jolt of pleasure.  


Sam was murmuring a soliloquy of pure sex into your ear. Amidst grunts and groans that he did his best to muffle and a litany of curses that you never would’ve expected from the straight-laced brother until you started having sex, he told you how good you felt and how beautiful you were like this, how much he loved the noises that you made and the way your body reacted to his. He reprimanded you for trying to get off without him and told you everything he was going to do to you once you got back to the bunker. His voice got more and more strained with each thrust. You almost felt bad for him, knowing how difficult it was for him to hold back under normal circumstances. You would’ve felt bad for him if it wasn’t so damn hot and if you weren’t thisclose to cumming, yourself.  


“Sam, baby,” you moaned, moving your hands from where they were wrapped behind his neck and pulled his face toward yours. He stopped the movements of his hips momentarily. In the stillness, you felt the arousal throbbing through his cock.  


The lights glowing from outside cast eerie shadows across his face. Each contour and plane was accentuated in the dark, and you took a moment to marvel at the hard line of his jaw, the straight slant of his nose, the way everything about this man was just massive and adorable. His eyes were hooded with lust as he stared down at you. They appeared colorless as the adaptive hazels reflected the lackluster yellow lighting. You brought your hand up to caress the side of his face. He leaned into your touch, eyes closing, still breathing heavily.  


“I love you too, Sammy. Now kiss me and keep going please,” you whispered. You didn’t have to tell him twice. He took your face in his hands and kissed you deeply, lips moving in familiar synchronization, tongues dancing and caressing and fighting and roaming. He started up his rhythm down below again. Attached at the lips now too, you were both able to moan more freely, knowing the sound would be swallowed by the other person.  


Your little break had allowed you both to come down a bit, but it wasn’t long before Sam was desperately groaning into the kiss, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and tugging when you knotted your fingers in his long hair. Being brought to the edge twice had amped up your sensitivity. You detached your lips from Sam’s to whisper, “I’m so close, baby.”  


“Me too,” he panted back. “Me too.” He buried his face against your neck again, and kept himself controlled by biting down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, none too easily, and sucking dark marks on whatever skin he could reach. Now, this was good for Sam; it muffled his noises and allowed him to refrain from pounding you into next week whether Dean was a few feet away or not. It was, however, not so good for you. The mixture of pain and pleasure thrilled you to no end, and you wanted to cry out Sam’s name as some form of relief of the fire roaring inside you. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t. That would be so bad. One cry of Sammy’s name and Dean would be up like a rocket, trained all his life to respond in such a manner. And that just kindled the fire more.  


“Sam,” you whispered as loud as you dared. “I can’t… I need…” He knew what you needed. He needed the exact same thing.  


Sitting up a little, but remaining sheathed inside you, Sam took your hips in his big hands, thumbs pressing just shy of your hipbones, calloused fingers wrapped around to rest at the top of your ass, which Sam took a moment to squeeze roughly. You bucked up into him, and a loud groan was surprised out of him. Both your heads shot over to Dean’s side of the room. The older hunter shifted in his sleep and grunted. You and Sam shared a quick look, panic in both your eyes, before returning to watch Dean. He appeared to be sound asleep again, evidenced by the return of his soft snoring (although he “so doesn’t snore”).  


You and Sam grinned at each other, the relief all but palpable. You were overtaken by the urge to giggle and covered your mouth with your hand as your body shook with silent laughter. Sam, seeing you laughing, couldn’t stop himself from doing the same. You could see his shoulders shaking and thought of the ridiculousness of the entire situation and couldn’t help but laugh harder. A squeak escaped from between your fingers, and you cupped your hand harder over your traitorous mouth. Sam’s smile widened, dimples prominent even in the low lighting of the room, and he held a finger to his lips. You slowly removed your hand from your mouth, unsure of whether you could trust yourself. You smiled widely at your boyfriend, still kneeling on the bed, thus towering over you. He smiled back and shallowly thrust into you again in a sort of question. You bit your lip and nodded fervently in answer.  


He brought his hands back to your hips, thrusting hard. You threw your head back in silent, tortuous pleasure. This new position allowed Sam to go impossibly deeper with each thrust, and the angle allowed him to hit your g-spot every time. You considered just saying “Fuck it,” and waking Dean up. But you didn’t doubt Sam and knew he’d hold true to his word and not allow either of you to cum if Dean woke up. It was just too much. Too much.  


“Sam!” It came out as a squeak, however no less desperate. Sam moved one of his hands from your hip to stroke up your side reassuringly. His jaw was clenched, and he continued to thrust into you at a pace that was sure to be your undoing. You felt like a rubber band about to snap. Each moan that you had to repress, each cry of ecstasy, each scream of Sam’s name, every expletive, prayer to God, and confirmation that “Yes! Yes! It feels so good!” that you could not utter seemed to travel downward like air into a balloon until you were wound tighter than you’ve ever been.  


Sam’s gaze met yours. His heavy brows were pulled low over his eyes, his forehead lined in concentration, the muscles taught in his jaw. You always loved watching Sam’s face whenever you had sex; it was usually so expressive and was what inevitably brought you to your climax countless times. The obvious restraint painted there, shrouded in the dark motel room, simultaneously oblivious and hyper-aware of Dean a few feet over was what finally pushed you over the precipice and sent you plummeting into one of the most powerful orgasms you’ve ever had. Sam – always a fast thinker – clamped his hand over your mouth just in time. Your entire body stiffened as pleasure rolled over you in electric waves, one right after the other right after the other. You moaned into Sam’s palm, fingers mindlessly gripping the sheets, eyes clamped shut in ecstasy.  


Sam came in tandem with a noise that sounded like he got the air knocked out of him. He lurched down and buried his face in your tangled hair as he throbbed and released himself inside of you. His hand had flown up to grip the headboard, and it made a worrisome cracking noise that had you wondering if this was another room you wouldn’t be getting your security deposit back on. The noise rumbling from his chest had tapered from a growl to a groan, and his body relaxed and slumped down on top of you.  


You were both panting for air like you’d been denied oxygen up until this point in time. Sam was quick to roll off of you, and you were grateful for the current of cool air that graced your skin. You and Sam lay with your heads together in comfortable silence for a few moments when-  
Dean cleared his throat, “So, uhm, can I go take a piss now? Or get some holy water to pour in my damned ears?”  
You let out a noise somewhere between a squawk and a gasp of surprise, but you could feel Sam’s whole body shaking with laughter. “I think there’s a flask of holy water in my duffel bag,” Sam chortled.  


You heard Dean’s bed creak as he got up and shuffled his way to the little bathroom, muttering about “sleeping in the Impala” and “you two getting your own room next time” and something along the lines of “like freakin’ rabbits, I swear.”  


When the bathroom door slammed closed, you and Sam curled into each other and dissolved into laughter. You were both fast asleep by the time Dean emerged from the bathroom, glaring daggers in the direction of your bed.


End file.
